


To Be a Monster

by GoldenPaca



Series: a room full of vampires (arfov) [2]
Category: Hermitcraft RPF
Genre: After Party, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Blood Drinking, Character Turned Into Vampire, Deception, Inner Dialogue, Kinda, M/M, Mild Blood, Non-Traditional Vampire Mechanics, not the good kind of after party
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-12
Updated: 2021-01-12
Packaged: 2021-03-16 09:41:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28704582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoldenPaca/pseuds/GoldenPaca
Summary: The beach is Impulse's solace, even if he loathes the ocean. He can't hurt anyone there, not when he makes sure to stay as far away from humans as possible. He just forgets that he can be hurt too, not when he's not as alone as he initially thought.He's always thought that the world was full of monsters, he just needs to convince himself he wasn't one either.
Relationships: implied impulseSV/Tango Tek
Series: a room full of vampires (arfov) [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2104158
Comments: 2
Kudos: 29





	To Be a Monster

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Broken Promises and Bug Wings (working title)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25344577) by [Fabulous_Fan_Fables](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fabulous_Fan_Fables/pseuds/Fabulous_Fan_Fables). 



> This story, and other stories in this series, are based on an AU some friends and I talked about. Some details may not be as clear or make as much sense at first, but to clear things up:
> 
> Vampires and Sirens aren't too different from each other. Vampires here can shapeshift into a predetermined animal, and they shift into these animals when they go into a blood-induced frenzy. Sirens are what aquatic vampires are usually called. Since they become vampires in the water, the animal they shapeshift into is also aquatic.
> 
> With that out of the way, hope you enjoy this!

The sand is rough against the soles of his feet but he decides it’s better to be on land than in the ocean. Any wounds he’ll get will heal in no time, and the stinging pain is nothing compared to _the feeling of air leaving his body, of claws digging into him and ripping him apart, of water in his lungs and lava in his veins swallowing him whole._

Yes, it’s much better for him to stay by the beach, walk along the shoreline, and not dare to enter the water. There are monsters that lurk beneath the waves, after all, he should know. _If only he had known earlier, if only he hadn’t been foolish, then maybe he won’t be stuck here in the first place._

He’s not worried about monsters coming to attack him. This place is fairly secluded, even if he knows that there are a few megabuildings nearby, and no one has come to disturb the peace yet. Besides, he knows how to defend himself: years of being dragged around and treated like nothing tend to help you learn to fight. _No one would attack him, not when they’re scared of him, not when he’s scared of himself._

He can’t help but wonder, however, treading lightly across the sand, if perhaps this had all been worth it. He hated his previous life: hated the terror, the fear, and the pain that came with being used as a human bloodbag, but he did it for the good of his village. For once, he can taste his own freedom. That’s what everyone wants most, don’t they? Freedom? _What kind of freedom is this, having to spill the blood of others so that he no longer needs to spill his own? What free man would fear the ocean, fear the forest, or fear himself?_

Lost deep in his thoughts, he doesn’t notice the rock in front of him, causing him to trip and roll on the ground. He hisses upon seeing the light marks on his knees, mostly out of habit than out of feeling actual pain. He waits until the scrapes heal in a matter of seconds, captivated upon seeing the skin mend and stitch itself together. It’s one of the perks of being a vampire, he muses, digging his palms into the hot sand to try and push himself up. At least, it’s one of the good things he considers to have come out of turning. He wouldn’t consider immortality a perk, not when it meant having to leave people behind. _Not when it meant having to take other people’s lives so he can remain ageless._

He’s in the middle of dusting sand off of his body, silently bemoaning the idea of having to clean his clothes later, when a voice rings throughout the beach. “That’s quite a fall you had there.”

He stiffens, looking around wildly for the source of the voice until it settles on a vague silhouette near the trees, getting closer and closer. He backs up out of instinct, swallowing the urge to run. There is nowhere for him to turn to, considering the person in front of him has the telltale crimson eyes of a vampire. He subconsciously reaches a hand up to his neck, as though he was shielding it before he remembers that he no longer needs to fear being bitten. He’s no longer human, he’s a vampire too, even if a siren would be a better term.

“Who are you?” he asks, mentally sighing in relief when his voice comes out steady. He stuffs his hands into the pockets of his khakis in an effort to stop them from shaking, and he tries to steel himself. He can always run into the ocean, he’ll have the advantage there if ever they get into a fight. _Does he want to risk it though, if it means being surrounded by the same people who turned him, who killed him?_

The vampire in front of him must have sensed his fear, for he raises his hands in mocking surrender. “No need to be so tense there bud,” he chuckles, mouth pulling back into a fang-revealing grin. “Name’s Tango. You are?”

He grits his teeth, continuing to warily eye the man. “Impulse. What are you doing here, Vampire?” he spits out. He aims for an accusatory tone, flinching when his voice falls flat. Tango raises an eyebrow, unimpressed.

“You say that as though you aren’t one yourself,” he snorts, stepping closer. They’re both of similar heights, so they end up looking at each other eye-to-eye. Impulse notes with a sense of growing frustration that Tango’s eyes display a cocky sort of confidence mirrored throughout the rest of his movements. Tango looks him up and down, most definitely scrutinizing him. Impulse shifts at that, betraying the tough persona he tried to present. Something about the way he’s being inspected reminds him of years ago when he had first volunteered to be a bloodbag, when the current head of that vampire clan wanted to make sure he was good enough. 

“You’ve just turned recently, haven’t you?” Tango asks, sounding genuinely curious. Impulse once again freezes up, memories of his turning filling his mind, along with _the pain, the pain, the pain coursing through his body, lighting him on fire even when surrounded by liquid, mouth forced open in a muddled scream as blood, his blood, turns the blue ocean red._

He swallows the flashbacks down, hoping his eyes don’t show his fear. He nods, not trusting his voice not to quiver as phantom sparks run up and down his spine. Tango once again steps forward, leaving barely any space in between the two. “Where’s the person who turned you?” He tilts his head, waiting patiently for an answer. His red eyes glint with something Impulse can’t quite decipher. He turns around, watches the ocean waves lap at the shore, and he can’t stop his shoulders from sagging forward.

“Left me alone,” Impulse finally croaks out, reaching over with his left hand to touch the mark on his right shoulder. “I like it that way.”

For the first time in their odd exchange, Tango frowns, lips pulled into a thin line. He seems oddly disappointed, and Impulse doesn’t seem to understand why. In all his years of serving a vampire clan, he knew that they only stayed together because there was strength in numbers. If given the opportunity, younger vampires like him would be turned away so they won’t ‘slow the clan down’. That doesn’t seem to be the case with Tango, and Impulse can’t help the small flutter of gratitude that settles in his throat, knowing that the man might care more than the average vampire.

He shakes his head a little bit while Tango continues to remain silent. He’s still a stranger, Impulse still can’t be too trusting or naive. It was naivety after all that caused him to run to the ocean in the first place, thinking it would be safe when he should have known nowhere is safe for a lonely human anymore, not unless they had someone else watching over them. Still, he wants to believe that maybe, just maybe he can trust Tango. There’s still leftover tension between them from their introductions to each other, and perhaps his cocky gait still grates on his nerves, but he seems to really be concerned about him, about his wellbeing and hasn’t it been a long time since someone, especially a vampire, cared for him like that? _He doesn’t think about Cleo. Cleo who cared for him more than anyone ever did even if she acted brashly. Cleo, who left him because she cared, because she knew it was dangerous for the two to stay together as Impulse wanted. Cleo whom he doesn’t know the whereabouts of._

“You’re pretty lonely here aren’t you,” Tango points out, more as a statement than as a question. Impulse nods an affirmative, finding his legs growing tired. He decides to sit down on the beach, making sure to avoid the rock he had tripped on earlier. He knows he’ll be complaining about the sand going into his pants, but at the moment he just wants to sit and watch the ocean approach and leave the shore in its endless cycle. He hears shuffling and knows that Tango has joined him, sitting close enough so that their arms brush against each other.

“You know,” Tango starts the conversation again, Impulse humming to let him know he’s listening. “I’ve seen you around a lot, just walking by the beach.”

Impulse snorts. “So you’ve been stalking me? Is that what you’re saying?” he accuses, voice flat but with a lilt of amusement.

“Puh-lease.” Tango waves the suggestion away, although when Impulse sneaks a look at the other there’s a wide grin on his face. “You have a pretty face but I wouldn’t go as far as to stalk you.” He lays down on the sand, hands cushioning his head and smirk growing as Impulse turns a shade of red. “Just saying if you ever want the company…”

He leaves it at that, Impulse thinking quietly over the whole thing. There’s something about his possible friend’s demeanor that, now that Impulse has taken the time to reflect on it, he sees is very charming. He’s similar to Cleo in a way, although more cocky than brash, and it comforts him and wants him to get to know him.

He’s still wary of course. Tango seems to have more experience with being a vampire, and he has no doubts that he can easily be defeated if the two were to fight but maybe, just maybe he won’t have to worry about that. Carefully, he mirrors Tango’s position, resting his head on one hand and using the other to play with the sand.

“I think I’d like that,” he speaks slowly, as though testing the words in his mouth. They feel rough on his tongue, but it feels right. Tango must have felt the same way because he grins and immediately launches into a story of one of his adventures.

***

Tango visits him almost every day from then on, walking with him along the beach chatting about whatever came to mind. Having been a vampire for longer than Impulse has been alive meant he had many wild tales that might be just a little bit exaggerated.

Once, Tango complained about getting sand in the boots he always insists on wearing, and Impulse just laughed him off, telling him to remove his boots if they bothered him that much. Tango ended up huffing and marching on, too prideful to accept Impulse’s suggestion. It endeared the man to him, made him seem a whole lot more silly than scary.

Per Impulse’s request, they didn’t talk much about vampirism in general, the topic still bringing up memories he’d rather keep buried and forgotten. Tango questioned it of course, but when he refused to budge, he shrugged and respected his choice, filtering his stories to make Impulse comfortable. It’s because of this that Impulse is confused when Tango invites him to a party out of the blue.

“A party?” he asks, once again sitting on the shore, bare feet close enough for the ocean to touch occasionally. Tango hums, mouth stretched into one of his infamous grins.

“Yeah, it’s a huge buffet in a friend’s mansion nearby. Man throws the best parties and he said I can bring you along tonight!” he shares excitedly, looking at his friend in hopes of seeing the same joy in his eyes. Instead, he sees Impulse frowning, causing him to frown as well.

The idea of going into a party with vampires still makes him uncomfortable, and the way Tango described it left an odd, confusing taste in his mouth. “I don’t know man, parties aren’t really my thing,” he excuses himself lamely, fiddling with his fingers. Tango pouts, grabbing one of Impulse’s hands to tug at it.

“Come on, Impy, please?” he whines, dragging out the last vowel. “I promise it’ll be fun!” His voice softens suddenly, and his eyes look pleadingly at him. “Just this once?”

Impulse sighs, taking his hand away from Tango’s surprisingly strong grip to run it nervously through his hair. “Alright, alright, fine,” he relents, barely managing to not sound as miserable and anxious as he felt. “I don’t think I have anything too formal,” he mutters, mostly to himself. Tango, however, springs to his feet with a cheer.

“Great! You don’t need to worry about your clothes, just be comfortable!” He smiles, reaching a hand out to help Impulse stand. His friend accepts it, pulling himself up and dusting some of the stray bits of sand off his hands. “I’ll pick you up at your place later tonight, it’s gonna be great!” Tango tells him before running away, waving his hands in goodbye. Impulse watches him leave, shaking his head to ignore the sinking feeling in his stomach. If he has to get ready for a party, he couldn’t afford to waste much time worrying, so he heads to his makeshift base to pick out his clothes.

***

The mansion that the party was held in is just as extravagant as he expected from any friend of Tango. There were crystalline chandeliers lighting up the room, columns of white quartz towering high with jewels lining the walls. It was, to be frank, nothing like he’d ever seen before and it scares him. Tango, who’s been walking with him, notices and flashes him a smile. 

“Relax, you’ll be fine,” he assures him, stopping by one of the massive pillars so that the two can lean against it. “This is a place to have fun, so just focus on that alright?” 

Impulse nods, distractedly watching the room. For a party for vampires, there was a concerning amount of humans mingling about, the scent of their blood almost intoxicating for Impulse. He’d been good at controlling his instincts so far, so he hopes there won’t be any problems tonight. In his observations, he also notes a lanky moustached man staring at him from the side, watching him curiously. It leaves Impulse squirming when Tango leaves him to talk to him as though they were old friends. 

He’s startled out of his thoughts by a scream, and when he looks for the source, he sees that someone has pounced on one of the human guests, ripping into him with feverish glee. The smell of blood hits him and he covers his mouth and nose with his hands, both out of shock and out of necessity, feeling the urge to feed thrumming beneath his skin. He backs away from the middle of the ballroom where most of the carnage is taking place, biting down hard on his tongue when he notices Tango grab a woman and dip her in the mockery of a dance move before latching onto her throat and tearing it off. Of course he knew what this party was going to end in, and yet he invited Impulse anyway.

He looks around to see if anyone was as horrified as he was, but the only other vampire not participating in the bloodbath was the tall man, still staring at him, although his eyes were softer than before. He thinks about approaching him, thinks about asking him for help when he hears the shatter of glass accompanied by another scream. He sees a human jump out of a broken window, pants catching on some of the shards of glass. Seeing the opportunity to escape, he runs towards the very window, not caring if he wounds his hand jumping over the sharp fragments. He runs and runs, feeling the rush of adrenaline carry him all the way to the ocean where he didn’t hesitate before jumping in.

The transformation from his humanoid form to his more siren-like one is painless, but the beginning of a frenzy envelops him, a thirst unable to be quenched by the water around him making him more manic by the second. The smell of blood, human blood infecting the water has him growling, and he sees one of the humans from the party floating above, bleeding from her shoulder. He tries to resist, tries to control himself, tries to tell himself not to attack but _the hunger is there, swirling in his stomach, the metallic smell filling his nose drags him closer until his mind howls for him to attack._

Biting his tongue in silent apology, he closes his eyes and lets instinct finally take over, not stopping until his inner monster is satisfied.

***

The next day he finds himself back on dry land, staying as far away from the ocean as possible. There are still patches of red in the water, and if he focuses hard enough, he can see small spots of red dotting the underside of his nails, not going away no matter how hard he scrubs at it. He wraps his arms around his body, shivering as memories blended together, as his mind is left reeling with the feeling of _blood rushing into his mouth, running down his throat and quenching his thirst, as flesh is torn apart by his claws, as screams echo in the open night sky and still go unheard, as he’s brought back to the memory of searing pain in his shoulder, of being surrounded by water and pulled downwards into the abyss, left crying until he’s too drained to make a sound._

It’s the mixture of footsteps behind him and the feeling of his nails digging too deep into his skin that stops him from falling deeper into his thoughts. He doesn’t need to turn around to know who it is that approaches him, yet he turns around anyways to come face-to-face with Tango.

“What are you doing here?” Impulse whispers, knowing that if he speaks up louder his voice is going to break. Tango looks at him confused, head tilted as though Impulse was suddenly an enigma he couldn’t understand.

“You left so suddenly last night and I couldn’t find you anywhere after the party,” Tango tells him, voice filled with concern. For some odd reason, that tone grated on him in the wrong way as his heart flares up with anger. _Where was that concern yesterday when he had been scared of the whole idea of the party, or when the party ended up in a massacre? Where was that concern when he found himself washed up on the beach this morning, haunted by the stains of red all over his body? Why is he only concerned now that the damage has been done?_

“Pulsey?” Tango calls out quietly, reaching out to touch Impulse in the shoulder, near his bite wound. Suddenly, all of what’s happened in the past few days came crashing down on him, and the use of his nickname finally causes Impulse to snap.

“Don’t touch me,” he hisses, abruptly jerking his shoulder away from the other vampire’s touch. “And don’t you dare act like you’re worried for me,” he adds, watching as Tango’s face falls and his eyes briefly cloud over with hurt.

“Impulse, are you alright?” he asks, watching as his friend shifts backward, taking on an almost defensive stance. Impulse narrows his eyes, growling softly.

“I can’t believe you!” Impulse explodes, throwing his hands up. “You know how I feel about all of this vampire stuff, and you still invited me to that party and told me it would be fun! What a load of crap that was!”

Tango is taken aback by his outburst, eyes wide open in shock before he recovers and narrows them too. “Don’t you get it, I was trying to help you!” Tango retorts, raising his voice. “I’ve hung out with you every day for the past few months and not once have I seen you feed! I thought bringing you along would make you more comfortable with going into a frenzy,” he defends himself, hands raised up in mock surrender.

Impulse laughs dryly, shaking his head. “I’m a siren, remember?” he wryly points out. “Going into a frenzy on land would actually kill me.” He emphasizes the death part, ignoring the part of him that whispers that _he wouldn’t mind dying, not if it meant that he wouldn’t have to deal with being a monster anymore._

Surprise briefly flits across Tango’s face, before it is replaced with a mixture of frustration and confusion. “That shouldn’t be a problem! I’m sure Void has a place in the mansion somewhere so you can have access to water-”

“That doesn’t matter!” Impulse interrupts him, snarling at the man he once considered a friend. “I trusted you!”

“I just don’t get why you’re so scared of giving in to your instincts!” Tango throws his hands up in exasperation, sounding as frustrated as Impulse felt. “Why are you so scared of yourself?”

It all comes spilling out.

“I used to be a bloodbag damn it!” he all but screams at Tango, whose jaw goes slack. “I hated being a bloodbag and I’d be a damned hypocrite to be alright with killing others!”

The memories flood his mind before he can stop them and he’s overwhelmed by all the _pain and the cuts and the blood, the feeling of being used never leaving him, the thoughts of being nothing more than a snack to them always lurking in the shadows, wanting to go back to his town and wanting to never return at the same time. He just wants to be free, why can he never be free?_

“J-just, leave me alone Tango,” he whispers, folding into himself. He curses himself for sounding so weak, so vulnerable, but he can’t help it, not when he’s trapped in the web of emotions he tried so desperately to sweep under the rug.

“Impy…” Tango trails off, hand moving as though he wants to reach out, hovering uncertainly in the air.

“Just go,” Impulse pleads, voice breaking and eyes trained firmly on the ground. Tango brings his hand back to his side, fingers curling into a fist.

“Being a vampire’s so much better than being a bloodbag,” Tango angrily mutters, turning towards the trees. “You’ll appreciate being a vampire someday, mark my words.” He stalks towards the trees and Impulse watches him go until his shadow blends in with the canopy of the trees.

He falls to his knees, barely managing to avoid scraping his knees against the rougher sand. He had thought Tango would have been a great friend, thought he can finally find someone he can trust in. He never liked the other sirens hanging out along the coast, always bringing flashbacks of his turning, but now every time he thinks of Tango he can only think of the party and of the ocean after, of pain that’s both his and isn’t.

He misses Cleo and her jokes, misses her lighthearted demeanor despite the situation they met in. He misses watching her work as a sculptor, managing to befriend the few vampires in the clan who didn’t completely look down on them. He misses her wild mind, thinking of the most absurd ideas for escape, one eventually leading to his freedom.

If she was still alive, if she saw him now, having been turned into the very thing they escaped from, how would she react? Would she hate him? Would she laugh? It all sounds pretty ironic, being turned into a vampire after years of being used by them. He might have laughed at himself if he didn’t absolutely loathe himself for what happened.

He wants to go back to his village, wants to return to how life was before the vampires found them, but he knows it’s too late. Word spreads quickly in the community, and no matter how far away Impulse is from everyone, the news will eventually reach him. Tango told him once of a village going up in flames after they refused to give another bloodbag to a vampire clan, and the way he described it made Impulse know just what village he was referring to, and he knew that he caused it to happen. He was the reason why they destroyed it, he traded them for his freedom _and didn’t that make him more of a monster than he already was?_

He misses farming, he misses the quiet, misses living without fear of pain or memory, misses looking forward to the future and not getting stuck in the past.

Is Skizz still alive? Zedaph? It seems unlikely that they’d survive, even if Skizz knows how to defend himself, even if Zedaph disappeared from their village long before he became a bloodbag. Did he cause his best friend’s death? He wouldn’t be surprised if it was so.

He was a monster even before he became a vampire, and isn’t that the saddest thing?

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [the future together](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28802796) by [covellite](https://archiveofourown.org/users/covellite/pseuds/covellite)




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